


I Know Who You Should Be

by Damalia (Achrya)



Series: EreminAU week, 2016 [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Brainwashing, Bullying, Child Neglect, Gaslighting, M/M, Murder, Nightmares, The Force Doesn't Work that Way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7004590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin Smith is the son of one of the most decorated and loyal members of the Order. He may dream of a life that isn't his own, of love and friendship and yellow fire, but he knows just who he is and what he is meant to achieve: greatness. If only he could get rid of a certain volatile force user.</p><p>Eremin Week Day 6: Disney</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know Who You Should Be

**Author's Note:**

> Star Wars Meld/AU. In which Eren is a bratty force user and Armin is a force sensitive, slightly brainwashed, slightly genocidal fanatical general. ...okay fine, very brainwashed. It’s fine, it doesn’t bother him any. Erwin is also a fanatic but, in spite of the role he occupies, I wouldn’t say he’s ‘evil’. He genuinely believes that what he’s doing is for the betterment of the universe and it’s people.  

For as long as he could remember General Armin Smith has dreamed about things that never happened to him. A man and a woman with tears in their kind eyes, love on their bloody faces, and yellow fire in their mouths, screaming for him to run. A man with gray hair who stood like his spine was made of steel, standing in front of him. A boy tugging him along by his hand out into a field of rubble and burning flowers. Searing pain as he burned from the inside out.  

These are things that he knows are not true, could not be his own memories. He was raised in the so called Far Outer Rim, in the Unknown Region, on one of the planets that maintained loyalty to the fallen Emperor and didn’t bow to the puppet Senate and the upstart offshoots of the Reiss monarchy. His mother had died in childbirth, leaving him to be cared for by his father, Admiral Smith.

Or, more accurately, by servants and droids.

A man like Admiral Smith needed to devote his time to important things like aiding in the building of the Order of the Wall from the ashes of the once glorious empire, expanding the Order’s reach to other planets not interested in the ‘choices’ the Senate offered, weeding out the weak and disloyal, and seeing to the training of troops. There was no time in such things for the task of raising a child.

Even one as exceptional as Armin was acknowledged to be.

There hadn’t been much softness or kindness in his life, never a man or woman with hair and eyes like his, with soft hands, and an excess of care to shower him with like in those dreams that weren’t his, and he knew it was for the better. Admiral Smith had seen the potential in him, his only child, and had carefully molded his upbringing in order to bring it to the surface.

Being worthy of the Smith name and a high rank in the Order wasn’t something that came easily or without pain and sacrifice. Love did not build the sort of people needed to tame the universe or grasp power.

His early life had been full tutors and trainers, of lessons on history, military campaign, strategy, tactics, weapons handling, physical fitness, piloting, and personal combat. From the time he woke until the time he slept there was nothing but his training. The tutors were his only contact with other humans but there was no care or bonding there. Their purpose was to educate him to his father’s standards and any failure or deviation was cause for punishment.

No one would have dared reach out to him, to treat him as if he were a child left alone on a planet with only droids for company. They never tried and he never expected it.

In his twelfth year he was moved to the Admiral’s base. There was still training but he also sat in on meetings with diplomats, planet heads, and ranking Order members. He also learned that there was more to things than sitting at a desk or pouring over maps as he was expected to watch over the day to day workings of the base and help with repairs. The latter was often dirty and painful work, a lot for his young and smaller than was typical body, but he never complained or asked for help. He just worked harder, accepted the pain that twisted him up and kept him awake, used it to focus himself.

He watched battles against the Resistance forces, Senate sympathizers who worked outside of the treaty, and technically without Senate support, in order to hunt those loyal to the former empire, play out in real time via holos and found an affinity for battlefield tactics. He could look on an area, take in landmarks, terrain, and troop location in seconds, and form a plan. A new task was added to his training: spending time watching old holos of battles, of people fighting and dying, stopping before the outcome and recording his observations and thoughts to the Admiral about what would probably happen and what could have been done for a more favorable outcome.

Some people called him a ‘prodigy’ but there was no praise from the Admiral, merely demands to do better. His ability to deal with surprises was lacking, sometimes he missed crucial elements that could have turned the tide.

He had to be better.

When Armin was 13 he killed a man. Some traitorous general with dreams of being Admiral who thought the fastest way to the top was assassination (to the man’s credit he wasn’t wrong.) Armin was sitting quietly in the Admiral’s outer office, working on assembling and disassembling a blaster rifle, when the man came in. Armin remembered getting a pat on the head, rather condescending considering his age and strange since no one was to touch him (contact beyond the touch of droids was forbidden to him on the Admiral’s orders), and that the gesture made him feel sick.

It was as if he’d been able to feel the dark intent in the man’s heart.

Armin remembered seeing the small vibroknife clasped in the man’s hand just as the inner office doors slide shut. He remembered calmly putting the rifle back together, standing, and walking to the door. He remembered the door opening just as he heard the Admiral shout.

After that things became a sort of red washed blank.

He knew for certain that the Admiral had been caught off guard by the attack and only the man’s surprise as Armin walking in had cause him to sink the vibroblade into a non-fatal spot in the Admiral’s chest. He knew that he’d shot the man, a single clean shot to the head, and then turned around to return to his task, not stirring as med-droids and troopers flooded in.

Had the Admiral died the General would have been hailed for eliminating someone who was clearly unworthy to live, as was the Order’s way. But, since he’d failed and been killed by a child of all things, he was branded a failure and a traitor and his family stripped of their status.

Armin supposed he may have been praised, knew that he’d been issued a civilian commendation though he wasn’t present to accept it.

Nightmares had followed killing the general, dreams of a pretty little cottage burning to ash, the smell of burning meat in his nose and ash in his eyes. Dreams of a field full of wildflowers that wept razor sharp droplets of blood and cut his bare feet when he ran over them. Dreams of a man with a black hole for a face, twisting shadows for a body, and a sword made of yellow flames. Dreams of burning away to nothingness.

Mental reconditioning was needed. He didn’t remember it, though sometimes he was sure there had been an empty white room with no windows or doors, that he’d been dressed in all white, and even the nutrition blocks that had seemed to come from nowhere had been white.

Years later he closed his eyes and saw only white.

It took the better part of a year for him to be deemed fit and then it was off to the academy. He did well, stood as top of his class in all areas except the physical ones. Armin wasn’t a large man in spite of the Admiral’s formidable size and he wasn’t the strongest or fastest, though he did well enough.

There were people, peers who seethed at being outdone and hurled accusations of favoritism and nepotism, who had...taken advantage of his physical weakness and the fact that he wouldn’t dare speak of such matters lest he bring a shadow over his family name. He suffered but in the end it merely fueled him.  

He’d gotten stronger. Become better. Made plans to take careful and efficient revenge. It wasn’t a matter of being ‘hurt’ or ‘angry’ or anything so petty. It was because he couldn’t allow the shame of his weakness, the humiliation of what had been done to him, to follow him once he left the academy.

When he was 17 he met the silent skulking force user that was Eren Rogue of the Knights of Titan. Armin knew of the Knights, a group of four-now five- force users who answered only to the shadowy figure of the Supreme Leader. He’d never met them, though the Admiral supposedly worked closely with them on occasion, and didn’t have much of an opinion on the group.

He didn’t care much for ‘The Force’ and all the uncontrollable mysticism and superstition that came with it but he understood that having Force Users on their side to balance what their enemies had, most notably the Jedi Knight Levi Ackerman, was important.

Force users had their place in the shadows and on the battlefield.

That place didn’t seem to overlap with him and he was unsure of why, on his last academy break before graduation, he was called to the Admiral’s office and found a black clad figure there as well. Not as tall as the Admiral but much taller than Armin, seemingly broad shoulders in the layers of flowing black robes, face hidden behind a (frankly ridiculous looking) gleaming black helmet.

They were introduced by the Admiral and, ever polite, Armin had extended his hand. He’d expected a quick handshake and then to hear what was going on but, instead, when his hand was grasped he’d felt...something.

It was like icy fingers forcing their way through his skull and then running over his brain; a shocking pain that numbed under an overwhelming chill almost as soon as it started.

It was over in a heartbeat, just long enough for him to scream and nearly topple over before catching himself on the desk. Even though the knight wore a mask and there was no way to tell what might have been going on beneath it Armin had felt, as he tried to catch his breath and banish the radiating coldness from inside his head, that he was under intense scrutiny.

“I will do what you ask.” The knight had said, voice strange and modified into the mechanical drone droids favored, before turning and sweeping out of the office like some sort of dramatic overgrown winged beast.

The Admiral frowned. “You let him into your head with no fight at all. I’m disappointed.”

Armin knew in that moment he’d never hate anyone as much as he’d hate Rogue.

When he returned to the academy it didn’t take long before he realized that the four students who’d been his tormentors hadn’t come back from break. After that it was a small matter of learning they’d been killed in their homes. Why someone would kill four such promising students was something people could only speculate on because the incidents were being suppressed by those higher in the Order but the general opinion seemed to be rebels trying to take them out before they could even graduate.

Armin managed to use the Admiral’s security codes and look at reports. They were light on information and details but there were pictures with images that made his stomach turn. The bodies were unrecognizable, all viciously beaten and then burned in their beds.

He dreamed about them for weeks after, mocking laughter and cruel burning hands, skin turned black as it was eaten by flames, and cold fingers inside of his head.

At 18 he graduated and was sent immediately to the front lines of Trost, not even having time to stay for the ceremony. There he once again encountered Rogue, along with another Knight of Titan who went by Annie. He presumed they were female but the mask and shapeless robes made it hard to say for sure.

Trost was a small planet with one major continent and one major city. Until recently Trost had been counted among the order’s allies but in the wake of a coup that had taken out a lot of the major players in the government a resistance contingent, later found out to have been snuck in by those who started the coup, had taken over the capital.

The Order had come out in force, expecting to barrel over what they thought was a small group of rebels and take back power for what remained of their allies. 8 cycles later and the fighting continued. The rebels had dug in deep and with the backing of a popular governor they had Trost’s military on their side.

Admiral Smith had placed him under the command of General Nanaba who’d explained that their orders were from the Supreme Leader and were relatively simple. Root out the resistance, get any information they could, and then burn Trost to the ground as an example of what happened when one betrayed the Order. They were to be done in no more than 4 cycles.

Trost was a smoking crater within 1.

Armin started to make a name for himself there. While he was far from leading the battle, or changing the tide on his own, he provided valuable insights and proved to be impressive as a sniper. It was he who would, after the Knights of Titan stormed the capitol building and provided a vicious distraction, put a blaster bolt through the brain of the governor. It would go on record for being the longest range kill shot in Order history (Armin was skeptical, it had seemed far too easy a shot, barely took any thought at all once he’d focused, to be so impressive) and, most importantly, did wonders to destroy morale.

There was something about seeing a man trying to rally his army one moment and then falling with a neat and tidy hole in his skull the next that rattled even hardened soldiers.

Not that Annie and Rogue hadn’t done much of that on their own as they swept over the city, lightsaber ignited, and cut down any who stood in their way like black winged angels of wrath.

Or, perhaps, demons.

When it was all over Armin had a confirmed kill total in the double digits. There were dreams again, at first, but they always faded into a odd visions of hands made of ice caressing his face and a voice from a past that wasn’t his own ordering him to rest.

There would be other battles as the fight with the resistance picked up and more and more territory was warred over. Promotions seemed to come his way easily but, on paper, he could see they were deserved. He never felt as if he was doing the impossible or, even, something hard. His skills as a sniper were well known but when he was looking down the scope it was just...as if it was natural or his shots were guided to their targets. He always knew, before exhaling and squeezing the trigger, that the shot would be successful.

He just knew.

The same was true of his battlefield decision making. It was as if he could look through, or past, everything else and what needed to be done to secure a victory was laid out before him.

He expanded his interests into engineering and troop training, helping General Hanji with some of their weapon plans and pushing the Admiral to consider the education programs their had conceived of for troop training.

Something in him felt uneasy about the idea of plucking orphans from poor and war torn planets but he managed to push it down. Better than starving or dying or being sold into slavery and, in the end, it was for the betterment of all people.

The Order was going to bring order to the splintered races of the universe, bring them all under one banner and stomp out the crime, fighting, and strife that had always plagued them. Once they were under one united banner everyone who had opposed them would be able to see the wisdom in everything the order had done.

Shortly after attaining the rank of general, the youngest to do so in Order and Empire history, things changed. He was brought into the confidence of the Admiral and, by proxy, the Supreme Leader. He was moved away from battlefield work. Command of the _Maria,_ the new flagship of the Order, was given to him before construction had even been completed.

It should have been an honor but instead it seemed as if it were to be a nightmare.

\---

Never had Armin gone from such a high, nearly on par with the satisfaction of seeing a blaster bolt strike its target, to such a low so fast. He was being granted command of his own ship...but was to share command with Eren Rogue.

They had encountered each other often in the past decade with Rogue acting as the sword and fist of the Supreme Leader in ‘difficult’ situations, which happened to also be the things Armin was often ordered to be part of as well. They didn’t associate much in spite of that; they attended the same meetings, got the same orders, participated in the same fights but beyond issuing orders that Rogue didn’t obey they never spoke.

There was just something about being on the same planet or ship as the masked man that made him feel like he was being watched even when Rogue wasn’t near enough to actually be watching him.  Beyond that everyone knew Rogue was volatile, prone to violent ‘trances’ of sorts that he couldn’t be broken from. He would destroy anything in his past, foe or friend, when that happened. It was a fact that many Order troopers had fallen under Rogue’s weapon or been crushed by his power and Armin couldn’t understand why the Supreme Leader tolerated such a thing. Aside from being a waste of resources it made the troopers nervous.

People called him the Berserker Knight for fuck’s sake and it was an apt title. Armin had seen him fight, seen how he threw himself at the enemy to plow through with reckless abandon and no care for himself or others. Brute, terrible strength and vicious power were channeled into crushing blows and a seemingly random saber style.   

There were rumors that rebels sometimes fled when they saw him coming which was fine...except the troopers sometimes ran away as well.

Every station or ship or posting Rogue visited would have a sharp spike in re-education needs as if he was literally driving the troopers to madness. Instead of carefully crafted order and discipline, instilled in troopers by the near flawless education system, chaos seemed to bubble up at every single place the knight visited, even if only temporarily.

It was a hassle Armin didn’t want on his ship. He’d had every intention of saying just that when the news reached him by way of, of course, Rogue himself. More specifically a holo recording from the Admiral brought by the knight informing him of his new command and that he’d be sharing it.

What should have been the best moment of his career so far, a great honor by any standards but especially considering his age, tainted by...this man-no, this temper tantrum prone child-before he’d even gotten a chance to enjoy it.

He didn’t slam the holo disk down like he was tempted to, he never let fits of emotion slip through in front of others, but once he’d turned it off he put his attention on the knight. The other man hadn’t moved from his spot on the other side of Armin’s desk; he looked completely out of place among the clean order and sharp lines of the office, mask glinting under the overhead lights.

He was ridiculous. Some sort of overgrown winged beast, all rage and destruction, had no place on a starship like the _Maria_.

There was no possible way Armin could share a command with him.

What did this man, this person who was little more than a fairy tale wizard with an anger problem, know about leading the well trained forces of the Order anyway? What did he knew about anything that wasn't storming in, weapon drawn, and losing himself in battle?

It wasn’t going to work. It was tantamount to sabotage really. Everything, including his career and whatever meager standing he had in his father's eyes, would suffer.

He could not tolerate this.

Before he got a chance to say any of that Rogue was reaching up and touching his mask. There was a sound like an airlock decompressing, the mask came down, and Armin was staring into eyes so green they seemed to glow, set in a face out a dream that couldn’t be his own, framed by long unruly brown hair. He didn’t look any older than Armin himself was and something about that just felt...off. How could this man, this terror of the Order and leader of the Knights of Titan, be so very young?

Then again didn't people ask the same thing about him?

He sat back in his seat, taken aback by the very idea of having something in common with Rogue, even if it was just being younger than expected for their stations.

“General.” Rogue’s voice was shockingly normal, almost pleasant much like his face, without the mask’s modulation. “I hope you will find this arrangement pleasing.”

There was something in his tone that made the hair on the back of his hair stand up but he refused to look away or show any discomfort. Never again would he be weak in front of this man.

“Why would I find being saddled with someone who doesn’t follow orders, disrupts the workings of every posting he has, and distresses the troopers to such a degree that they need re-education ‘pleasing’?” He asked, refusing to be anything but blunt and to the point. Let others cower before the Knights of Titan but he would not.

He’d expected Rogue to be offended, to fall into one of his infamous fits of rage, but instead the man laughed quietly. It was an almost pleasant sound if he ignored how uneven and raw it was and the way his eyes seemed to glitter.

It made him uncomfortable and, in spite of his resolve to not be intimidated, he found himself looking at the papers on his desk intently. A violent outburst would have been less unnerving.

The feeling of cold fingers inside of his brain came without warning. They tried to dig in, chilling him to his core in mere seconds, and rifle through. It didn't hurt as much as it had in his father’s office but it was still far from pleasant. He narrowed his eyes as his hands balled into fists and thought of nothing but how much he hated the man standing before him.

“Stay out of my thoughts Rogue.” He had to fight to keep his voice level. “I don't care how you operate elsewhere but it won't be tolerated by me, here.”

He wasn't sure what he intended to do about it but that was a mystery for another day.

Rogue’s smile was cold even though his eyes were burning with some strange emotion. The feeling in his brain receded but before he could begin to shake it off warm calloused fingers were brushing his face, pushing a strand of hair that had moved out of place back. He jumped away and to his feet, heart jumping into his throat. He hated that he was like this: jumpy and afraid when he was touched before being prepared for it. A product of his childhood and time in the academy no doubt, when he'd gone from never being touched to an abundance of contact that he’d loathed (but, sometimes, he wondered if he'd wanted it and somehow those other boys had known and that was the real reason he'd be the target of their torment. Perhaps being noticed had been...) Even now he felt like his skin where Rogue's fingers had touched was tingling.

“I have been looking forward to this, General _Smith_. We are destined to do great things together.”

Armin, who was rarely at a loss for words, could think of nothing to say. The mask was put back into place and then the knight left him, robes still swirling around stupidly.

What was that supposed to mean?

\---

Armin hated the implication of taking his complaint to his father. It made him feel like a child, tattling about being bullied or the like, as if he weren't a decorated general who had seen battle. As if his father wasn't the highest ranking available person to take a grievance to. As if he wasn't entitled to make an issue that he felt would affect the way his future ship, the supposed flagship if the Order, the would-be jewel of the fleet, was run.

And yet, under his father's cool gaze, he felt small and young, stripped of all the power he had amassed.

“You are very short-sighted General. No better than a child.” Admiral Smith said finally, tone scathing.

Armin looked away, cheeks heating up at the words. It wasn't true and he knew that, but to have his worries echoed back to him so accurately… perhaps it was true.

“Eren Rogue is disruptive and at times seems to be more trouble that he is worth but his orders come directly from the Supreme Leader. It's not for us to question it.” Admiral Smith continued. “So long as he remains the Supreme Leader’s attack dog this is how things will be.”

Armin bit back a retort. The Supreme Leader. Some shadowy wizard who sat somewhere, uninvolved in the battles, moving them about like pawns on a game board, and even his father accepted it without question. Armin didn't, couldn't, understand that. What did force users care for the struggles of soldiers anyway?

“You wish to be in my position one day? To have my power?”

He looked back up, unsure about the shift in conversation. It was true, yes, but would saying that gain him any ground? Would it just be seen as a challenge? Would-

No. It didn't matter. He was not ashamed of wanting power or of climbing the ranks as he had. He wouldn't back down here. If he did then he was hardly worthy of being Admiral one day.

He stood up straighter, squaring his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”

Smith folded his hands on his desktop and smiled approvingly. Armin didn't think he'd ever been on the receiving end of the man’s approval or witnessed anything but his ‘media’ smiles before.

“As you should. Few would be more worthy of the position than you but why just Admiral? Why not more?” The Admiral leaned forward, eyes gleaming with barely contained amusement. “Why not Emperor?”

Armin's mouth dropped open and he started to shake his head even as his brain leapt to process the suggestion. Emperor? They didn't have an Emperor anymore, not since the dissolution of the Empire, and while he could certainly see the allure in that level of power, in standing above everything and holding power over entire systems in the palm of his hand, in being the highest authority, he didn't see how that could be achieved.

“Eren Rogue is the key to that power, an attack dog waiting to be pointed towards a cause, and he would gladly rest at your feet as your dog.” The Admiral looked completely serious, as if he weren't saying absurd things.

Rogue? Willing to rest at his feet? Madness. He only answered to the Supreme Leader, his father had just confirmed as much, and he was rabid and unwilling to so much as regard Armin as an equal let alone a superior.

“You know who General Jaeger is, don't you?”

Carla Jaeger, princess of a planet that was little more than rubble now, briefly turned Senator, now commander of the resistance forces. Married to Grisha Jaeger, a doctor who had become a smuggler in order to take medication and care to the citizens on certain planets who would otherwise be unable to afford those things, who'd become a ‘hero’ during the war but had retreated from the public eye after the death of their son, supposedly at the hands of the Knights of Titan in the same ‘cleansing’ that had wiped out nearly two dozen young force users under the tutelage of the Jedi Levi.

The cleansing wasn't common knowledge but Armin had always had ways of getting into places and learning about things others could not and when it came to General Jaeger he liked knowing things. She was an impressive figure, even if she was misguided and his enemy. It was important to know his enemy and to learn all he could from what they had done and still did.

“Eren Rogue is her ‘poor dead son, cruelly murdered by the Knights of Titan’.” His father looked like he might laugh for a moment but, of course, Admiral Smith did not laugh. Rather he looked slightly less intense and dour than he usually did.

Armin let that sink in, not quite believing it. Rogue was...but how? Why would General Jaeger’s son of all people join them? Not that Armin doubted the Order and their goal, but he couldn't imagine the child of a woman who so despised everything they stood for thinking of them as anything but enemies. What could the Order have possibly offered him?

“There are only three people in all the world who know why Rogue came to our side. It’s information the Supreme Leader guards very closely.” His father sounded deadly serious and his blue eyes were sharp as they took him in. “He believes the Force has lead him to the Supreme Leader and the Order in search of you. That it’s destiny, if you will.”

Armin’s mouth opened and then shut with a click. That didn't make any sense at all. The notion that the Force would have any awareness of him, let alone an interest, was nearly too much to process.

“He believes you're the...Force reincarnation of a friend he once had.” His father’s eyebrow cocked upwards almost thoughtfully. “Madness of course but madness that the Supreme Leader was able to use to his advantage and that I believe you could use to yours.”

_We are destined to do great things together_

“The Supreme Leader keeps Rogue on his leash and the Knights of Titan follow his orders but I'm certain their loyalty lies with Rogue. If his loyalty were to lie with you…” He let his words hang in the air, heavy with meaning.

Armin swallowed, brow furrowed in thought. He tried to let himself imagine, just for a moment, being Emperor. Surely they would need a uniting figure once they had taken care of the resistance and would he not be a good option? Did he not believe in everything the Order of the Wall stood for, had he not molded himself to exemplify the very best of things? Did he not have the best interests of all the systems in mind?

Wouldn't he be better than the unseen wizard who watched them from afar and had others carry out his orders, never once risking himself?

But dealing with Rogue? Aligning with a clear madman, seeking his help to overthrow his master, and then hoping he would stay loyal and not overthrow him when it was convenient to do so? That was a large risk to take. If he was found out, if his father was wrong, if the other Knights of Titan were really loyal to the Supreme Leader...so much risk.

And yet.

The idea of the man, all that power and rage and directionless violence, being under his command did have some appeal. Sitting at his feet, however metaphorically. Playing at being his dog, ready to attack or heel for him alone?

He breathed out slowly then met his father’s gaze. “What do I need to do?”

“First you will need to learn to shield your mind.” His father stood up as he spoke. “I will teach you.”

Armin tilted his head to the side. “You know how to shield against force users?”

A useful skill for someone in such a high position of power, no doubt. He wasn't surprised exactly, there were many reasons his father had the rank he did and answered only to the Supreme Leader after all, but he hadn't thought that would be among them.

His father’s lips twitched into a thin humorless smile. “I have some experience in some areas of the force.”

An image of searing yellow fire in the hands of a man in a dark hooded robe formed in Armin’s mind.

\---

Captain Sasha Blouse was the first officer he appointed to the _Maria_. She was famous not just for her battle prowess and field ability but for the way she commanded her troops. Troopers were raised to obey, to be efficient and capable, unemotional and to care only for their orders, but she inspired more than that from them.

They wanted to follow her and, as much as Armin believed in the education process and not in allowing wants and needs to factor in for the troopers, it was a fact that under Blouse the troopers were better. He wanted the best on his ship and that meant building the best possible command he could.

Even if that included a woman who had modified her armor into some bright metallic travesty and insisted on using a bow and plasma arrows as her secondary weapon.

Nonetheless she cut an impressive figure. She was muscular, from what he'd seen while watching her lead a training session, fast, and strong. Even now, in his office, there was something intimidating about her.

She stood before him, reddish-brown hair cut short, eyes bright with interest, in her travesty of a uniform waiting for him to speak but he got the feeling that, somehow, he was the one waiting on her.

“Your record speaks for itself Captain. I believe the Maria could benefit fro. Your presence.”

She hummed softly while tapping her fingers over the reflective surface of the helmet tucked under her arm. “I understand Eren Rogue will be sharing command. I don't like having my troopers terrorized.”

There was humor to her voice but also steel and deadly seriousness. If he hadn't known better he might have thought there was even a hint of disapproval.

“Rogue will not be a problem for you or your troopers.” He said, pushing as much confidence into his words as possible.

At least he hoped he wouldn’t.

“Oh?” She didn't bother hiding how skeptical she was. “You plan to keep the Berserker Knight in line, do you?”

Captain Blouse’s exemplary record hadn't mentioned anything about a casual disregard for authority. He was questioning the wisdom of requesting her for his ship when the door to his office slid open. He looked past the woman, surprised that anyone would dare come into his office unannounced and without permission.

The figure of Eren Rogue, as tall and ridiculous as always, dimmed his doorway. The trooper he'd had posted at his door, MRO-76, was just behind him shifting back and forth anxiously, no doubt conflicted about what he should be doing. The man swept inside, heedless of Blouse’s raised eyebrow and Armin’s scowl. Armin bit back a noise of annoyance then gestured towards MRO-76 who saluted then stepped back into the hall, allowing the door to shut. 

“General Smith,” The knight’s voice was, once again, an eerie droid like whine. “Am I interrupting? I understand you were speaking to Captain Blouse about coming onto the ship.”

It was impossible to get any inflection from the words and, with his face covered like it was, impossible to read him at all. Yet Armin got a feeling of...offense. Rogue seemed to be looking towards Blouse but, honestly, it was nearly impossible to tell.

“That is correct.”

Rogue’s head turned towards him. “You didn't see fit to inform me? We are to be sharing this command.”

As if the man knew anything about what it took to run a ship and set up the officers to ensure things went smoothly. He clearly didn't know anything about training or discipline.

He wanted to throw the man out for his rudeness or, at the very least, inform him that his opinion wasn't needed in matters such as this.

But that wasn't what he did. Instead he gestured to the spot next to where Captain Blouse was standing.

“Of course. I didn't realize you would be interested in such mundane tasks but you're welcome to take part.”

There a moment of near silence with only the mechanical wheeze of Rogue’s breathing breaking it. Armin wanted to imagine he could feel surprise in the air.

Finally the knight turned away, robes swishing around him. “No. I'm here to inform you the Supreme Leader has called for an audience immediately.”

That was...Armin had never been before the Supreme Leader before, not important enough to be part of the very limited inner circle. The timing was interesting.

“If you’ll excuse me Captain Blouse.” He inclined his head towards her as he stood. “It seems I'm needed elsewhere but we can pick this up tomorrow?”

“Of course General.” Her expression was one of open curiosity. He could relate.

They all left his office together and, once he'd engaged the lock, he turned to the other man who was staring off down the hall towards MRO-76, head cocked as if in thought. This was, he decided, as good time to begin as any. 

“Lead the way, Eren.”

This time he didn't just imagine the surprise; Rouge inhaled sharply as his head whipped around in his direction. He merely blinked back, keeping his expression neutral.

“A-ah. Yes. Follow me.” Was muttered and then Rogue was going, stomping and flapping as he hurried away. Armin made to follow but Captain Blouse touching his arm made brought him up short.

She smiled, showing off teeth. “I would be happy to come on to the _Maria_.”

What a strange woman. Her file had failed to mention that as well.

He nodded his understanding then went after Rogue, who had come to a halt when he realized he wasn't being followed. Once Armin was closer he was stomping away again, though he would cast looks towards Armin over his shoulder every few steps.

_“Show him affection. Acknowledge him” His father said solemnly. “And he will heel.”_

Armin thought that, perhaps, Rouge was very much like an eager puppy checking to make sure it's master was still there. 


End file.
